


Black

by Wesz



Series: Grey [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 05:24:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2639732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wesz/pseuds/Wesz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Puck, Blaine and Sam each have their own stuff going on; personal problems which are carefully hidden behind secrets. But those secrets are about to be spilled. They slowly start to rely on each other, but everything comes with a price. Before either of them realizes it, they're found in a new - and slightly odd - relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_P_ _rologue_

The first night of a brand new beginning. Those were the words Sam Evans had used to convince Blaine Anderson to coming out with him. Friday night's excitement was already trying to break through the sound barrier, desperate to reach the ears of young teenagers who might be in need of a good "pick-me-up". Another phrase that Sam had voiced in an attempt to get one of his new best friends into the mood. The reason why the curly haired boy had needed one of those was containing a name which had been forbidden to be thought of during that particular evening.

"Puck!"

No, not that one.

Noah Puckerman stopped and turned around. His vision had started already started to blur that evening, due to the many drinks he had consumed and lost the count of. But even in that state, he would always be able to recognize that gigantic mouth and that kid with the bowtie.

"Blam!" the Mohawked man exclaimed in a happy climax, "I mean, Sam, Blaine."

Sam walked up to his friends, who he hadn't seen in a while. "What…? Since when…? Are you…? Huh?" He was so surprised to that they had ran into Puck, that he couldn't even finish his sentences.

"I think what Samuel's trying to say is: What are you doing here, Noah? Since when have you come back from Los Angeles? Are you back for good? And his mind that has gone numb," Blaine interfered helpfully. Sam playfully punched his shoulder, pouting a little.

"Well at least you're teasing again," he then tried to shrug off his embarrassment.

"Drinks!" The mohawked man wouldn't be himself if that hadn't been the first thing he wanted to do. Even before answering the questions from dear friends that he hadn't seen in quite a while.

After catching the bartender's attention, he ordered three of his personal favorites. He reached for the wallet in the back pocket of his jeans and paid for them. Pressing each of his friends a drink into their hands, he made his way to one of the free booths in a corner of the club. It wasn't exactly quite over there, but at least they would be able to hear each other properly.

"Now tell me! When did you arr-"

"Cheers!"

Noah Puckerman sure liked his drinks.

They took a big chug and Blaine, who wasn't a real fan of drinking, couldn't even trace the different flavors. Yet Sam instantly recognized Puck's signature drink; Jack Daniels and coke with a splash of grenadine. The last was to "take the edge off".

"Yesterday," Puck finally answered, "I got sick of LA. My job wasn't really working out and when I ended up in bed with a girl that I had already done, I knew it was time to come back." His hazel eyes had locked on his glass, a satisfied smirk on his face as he thought back. It was typical Puck, always indifferent and tripping on his ego. And with that, also the perfect mask.

In the meantime, Blaine's eyes were darting around the room. He was examining the different people, all the odd composures and various faces. It was something the curly haired boy occasionally did, observing what was happening around him. There was no particular reason for his odd tendency, he just did. Many questions popped up into his mind, ones that he could only answer vaguely. Would that guy know he's dancing like a moron? Probably not. Is that girl blind? Hopefully. What time would the bartender go home? Most likely around six. Is that a couple or is one of them cheating? That last thought made him turn his gaze downwards. Memories of mistakes he had made started to show themselves inside his mind again. Blaine silently cursed his curious nature, which had now dragged him into remembering things that he wasn't allowed to remember. Not tonight. He had promised it to Sam. A deep sigh went passed his lips, which he was sure of no one could've heard because of all the noise in the club. But Sam had somehow still picked up on it, because he showed a gentle and sincere smile. It told Blaine that it meant more rather than it being a friendly gesture. It was one of those "cheer up" smiles.

"So you're still the same famous Sex Shark." When Blaine had looked up Sam had turned his attention back to Puck again. "I gotta say, it's nice to know that you haven't changed. After all, we were best buds," he smiled in a goofy manner.

Puck rolled his eyes at that. "Dude, don't sound so gay about it." But the quick wink he shot Blaine let Sam know that he wasn't being serious. "Anyway, how have you guys been?" he tried to change the subject, slightly nervous that Sam might start to ask more questions about his time away. "Still together with that Hummel, Blaine?"

The one questioned sucked in his bottom lip, shrugging lightly. "It's a long story, I guess…" he answered, not wanting to get into it.

"Well, I've got time," Puck grinned, oblivious to the fact that Blaine obviously didn't want to talk about it. He did pick up on the kick against his shin, though. Hell, how could he not, that Evans had been quarterback of the football team for way too long.

The badass decided to let go of the subject and therefore turned his attention back to Sam. Now he took a moment to carefully take in his appearance.

"Evans, have you forgotten to extend your subscription to the gym? You're not that buffed up as when I left you." He narrowed his eyes in an acted suspicion.

The blond laughed, waving his hand in a theatrical way. "Sure, man, whatever. You just still can't stand it that I'm better looking than you are."

Puck's eyebrows shot up. "Then why is your hook-up list still shorter than mine?" he fired back, a little annoyed that Sam had stepped on his ego.

"Ugh, boys…" Blaine suddenly interrupted with a roll of his eyes. The same eye roll that girls always did with their friends. A lame attempt into hiding the fact that they were actually enjoying being hit on by a guy.

His two friends turned their heads at the same time, showing him a weird, not-understanding look. The curly haired boy moved a little forward on his seat, hovering over the table a little.

"You both know that I've had more ass than you two have had pussy. Combined," he said in a low tone.

"Alright, you've had enough," Sam exclaimed, shocked by Blaine's words. He pulled the drink from his friend's hands while Puck was trying not to choke on his. He was laughing loudly.

"Jesus Christ, man, I think that was the first time I've ever heard you say a sentence like that," he managed to voice through his salvo.

Two hours later the boys were finally done catching up with each other. Various drinks were enjoyed in that time and combined with jokes and funny stories. All together, it had worked as an anesthesia to each of their own personal problems. Problems that had been quietly hidden behind secrets. Secrets that were about to be spilled.

The first night of their new beginning.


	2. Secrets

_Chapter one_

It had never bothered Noah Puckerman a lot that he had grown up without a dad. The asshole had ran out on him and his mom when he was a kid, so there weren't many memories he could draw from to miss the bastard. But when puberty hit him and his mind slowly, very slowly, started to develop, so came the questions. Once in high school he started wondering more and more about the person that should've been, but wasn't, in his daily life. There was this one time when his Glee Club teacher, Mr. Schuster, had practically forced everyone to sit down in the auditorium. He had asked them about their dreams. Puck had said that his biggest wish was to graduate, which was true, but not the whole truth. He didn't feel the need to tell them that his motivation was the sudden urge to start the search for his father. The other Glee kids would probably either have laughed at him, given him a lecture about that he didn't need to find his father or, even worse, help him. And, hell, if you would come up with all these different ideas they most likely will have confused him anyway. Besides, this was his thing. His alone. He felt like he had to do it himself, because, what if there was some greater reason he didn't know of why his father had left? What if it was one of those dirty secrets that Puck needed to process? Then all the people he knew, all his friends, would also immediately know what he had found out. And then he would be forced to also deal with them. On top of that, if his mother would find out why he had wanted to go to LA, she probably wouldn't have let him. No. This was his search.

A fucking failed search, as it had turned out. But in his defense, he hadn't much to go on. His mother had been reluctant in talking about her ex-husband and if Puck hadn't known better, he was sure she was keeping a secret. Mrs. Puckerman had signed the divorce papers many years ago, which were also the only lead Puck had into finding his old man. They were sent from a courthouse in Los Angeles and ever since Puck's mom had decided to tell him that, he knew he wanted to go there.

But four months later he had returned. Maybe he had started his mission a little rash, since he didn't have a plan whatsoever. Dressing up as some historic Romanian character to earn some money just so that he could stay longer and for what? Absolutely nothing. It was weird, because Noah never believed in stuff like fate and such. But in the end he had to admit to himself that somehow he had still had a little sense of hope that he would find the next clue. What a stupid mistake that had been. What was he thinking? That all the answers suddenly would come to him, just because he wanted them to? Pathetic. He wasn't starring in some crappy detective movie.

Oh, well, at least he had had plenty of time to catch up with his old, not to mention only, friend: Jack. Oh, Jack, with his wonderful ways that could numb his mind and send him straight into oblivion. Jack, even more enjoyed with coke and a dash of strawberry grenadine.

"I love you, man" the hazel-eyed guy admitted softly to the glass in his hand.

To strengthen his feelings for the liquid he downed it in one chug before getting up to get a new one. He slid a hand through his mohawk, secretly checking if it was still presentable and he pulled down the black wife beater that was perfectly accentuating the muscles in his chest. The music was blasting in his ears as colorful lights lit up the room and he banged his head exaggeratedly as he made his way through the crowd, his destination: the bar.

"Puck!"

The "cheer up" smile that was shown to him had only pulled Blaine Anderson out of his thoughts for a split moment. As soon as the conversation between Sam and Puck had went on, time had seemed to stand still and he had gotten dragged back into that one night in New York. His favorite red bowtie seemed to tighten around his throat as he recalled the memories.

"That was kind of…moving," Kurt had voiced hesitatingly. He was nervously fumbling with his hands as Blaine and he walked along the park. Rachel and Finn ahead of them. "Guess I've been kind of wondering why that was…"

Blaine swallowed, the guilt already starting to nibble at his heart. Maybe singing their song "Teenage Dream" in that bar hadn't been his greatest idea. After all, he was on the verge of breaking down and totally messed it up, which made the song only more emotional. But somehow he had just felt like doing it. Perhaps he wanted to show Kurt how much he was hurting himself because of what he had done, even though he didn't even knew his secret in that moment.

"Well…err…you know…I really missed you," Blaine responded, his heart throbbing inside his chest. He didn't want to back out of telling him, but he also didn't want to drop it on him like that. Besides, it had been a mistake to meet up with that guy he had met through the internet and he regretted it.

"I miss you too. And I'm really glad that you're here, but…" Kurt sucked in a breath while he didn't lose Blaine's gaze, "you've been so emotional and…weirdly sad…please, stop pretending that there's nothing wrong."

He could always see right through Blaine. They stopped walking and…even though his eyes were intimidating the former Warbler, he didn't dare looking away. The lump had already started to form in his throat, obstructing him from speaking, but he wanted to be honest.

"I was with someone," he said, not even trying to sound nonchalant about it, because he and Kurt both knew what it meant. Tears welled up in Kurt's eyes and Blaine watched it happen, torn.

"It was Sebastian, wasn't it?"

"No, it…" He couldn't restrain his slight annoyance from coming through. It had been the obvious thought, of course, but still. The three of them had a history and Blaine thought he had proven that he would never do anything with Sebastian. He knew it would devastate Kurt. "No, it wasn't Sebastian, but that doesn't…" he breathed out for a moment. "It didn't mean anything, okay?" He then started tearing up himself. "Look, it was just a hook-up."

"With who was it?"

"It doesn't matter with who it was with, Kurt, what matters is that I was by myself. That I needed you. I needed you around and you weren't there." Another breath. "I was lonely and…I'm really sorry…"

Blaine knew that there was no excuse for what he had done to his former boyfriend, but somehow he couldn't stop feeling like his action had been a reaction to his loneliness. A loneliness that wasn't necessarily his fault. Him hooking up with another guy had been more like a cry for help to the one he loved, which was Kurt, but he had handled it stupidly. He should have just told him that he was feeling alone and lost, but he had chosen the high road. On the other hand, he had even started to debate if he should go back to Dalton Academy, since McKinley High didn't feel like home anymore. Didn't that show how miserable he was?

But no matter what excuse the teenage boy made for himself, he knew in the end that he had been wrong. Yet, that didn't take away that when he was in the moment, with that other guy, it had felt good, and warm.

And finally it had resulted in the end of his relationship with Kurt. They hadn't talked ever since that night in New York and Blaine still regretted it. He couldn't get over the fact that he had been so stupid to shoot something so wonderful to hell.

He shook his head in an attempt to get rid of the thoughts in his head. Then trying to focus onto the conversation between Sam, who had supported him the last couple of months, and Noah, who had to warm up to Blaine but had eventually respected him, even though he would probably never show it. Apart from that one time when Blaine and all the guys from Glee Club had helped him study. The mohawked guy had thanked Blaine with an 'even you'. Still, Blaine liked Noah and he was confident that the badass liked him, too. He smiled when Puck shot him a wink, knowing that the guy still felt the need to show that he was comfortable with him being gay.

"Evans, have you forgotten to extend your subscription to the gym? You're not that buffed up as when I left you."

His friends hand't noticed it, but Sam Evans' body had tensed up at that question. Not because his ego had been slightly stepped on, but because Puck had noticed something that had more meaning than he knew of.

You see, it wasn't like Sam had wanted to lose weight. It had just sort of happened. He had been so busy lately with so many different things that he sometimes just forgot about eating. The first time he had noticed was a couple of weeks ago, on a Tuesday. It had appeared that he had failed Math again and the D on his English exam wasn't doing great things for his mood either. On top of that, his little brother had gotten sick and Glee Club had this new, big duet assignment that he still had to start working on. At around 9 p.m., the blond started to get a headache. At first he thought that it was because he had been working on his homework for the past four hours, but later it occurred to him that he hadn't eaten anything all day.

And that was how it started. After that day, his problems had only started to weigh down on him more and more. Sam had always had a tendency for feeling responsible for everything and everyone around him. And that tendency hat had only gotten worse. All his time was put into helping others and slowly, almost unnoticeable, he lost the natural urge to first care about himself. Stress became a regularity to deal with and when Sam felt like he was doing everything, absolutely everything, in his power to lessen that, it still didn't happen. That made him feel like he was losing his grip. His knees were wobbling on the ground of his own life and there was nothing he could do about it.

But somehow, lying in bed and summing up what he had eaten each day, soothed him. He tried to turn it into a hobby that would put his mind off his daily sorrows. So he started to keep an eye on calories. It started out quite innocently, but after a while he started to set targets for himself. He still thought of it as just a game that would release his stress, like working out used to do. The comic freak hadn't seen the harm in his new habit, but then again, naivety had been in his nature all along.

"Sure, man, whatever. You just can't stand it that I'm still better looking than you are."

That answer showed that somewhere in Sam's subconscious, he knew what was going on with him was wrong. It wasn't enough, though, to give up – for what it felt like – his last grip on his life.

Two hours later the boys were finally done catching up with each other. Various drinks were enjoyed in that time and their jokes and funny stories had worked as an anesthesia to each of their own personal problems. But, like with every other drug, it had come to an end and Blaine's buzz was the first one to wear off. He got up and walked off with the excuse that he "needed some air".

"What's going on with him?" Puck asked Sam. He had a confused look on his face. He watched the tight red jeans Blaine was wearing fade into the crowd and noticed that he wasn't even surprised by them anymore. He had known Blaine for quite a while now and, in comparison to his boyfriend Kurt, the little guy wasn't as fashionably gay. Puck could only appreciate that. It wasn't as if he bothered the oddly inspired choosing of clothing. Hell, he thought that everyone could and should be who they wanted to be. But he still had always had more appreciation for the former Warbler than for the Hummel.

Sam pursed his lips into a thin line, debating if he should tell Puck what had happened. But then he remembered that it hadn't been a secret and that the mohawked man and Blaine were friends. Normally he wouldn't have shared something so personal that wasn't his, but he figured he would be doing Blaine a favor. At least this way he didn't have to get into the story again himself.

"Kurt broke up with him…because he cheated," Sam explained.

Puck upped an eyebrow and balled his fists. "I'm gonna kill that fucking fairy first time I lay my eyes on him…"

"What?" Sam looked up, "oh, wait, no! No, no, Kurt didn't do anything wrong. Actually, Blaine did." He sighed, rubbing his upper arm for a moment before he crossed them in front of his chest. "He cheated."

"Really? Blaine?" Puck asked for confirmation, who hadn't been expecting that. He slid down in his seat a little. The nail on his index finger scratching his glass. "Huh, who would've have ever figured that Blaine Anderson is a cheater?"

"Can you at least try to show some more sympathy?" Sam interrupted him, annoyance sounding through his voice. The question was rhetorical, because he had known Noah long enough now to know that the badass had some sense of morality. Especially if it were about his friends. He just needed to be reminded to let go of his badass alter-ego for a moment.

"Hey! I feel bad for the Hobbit," Puck defended himself and in the meantime confirming Sam's image about the guy. "I just don't understand how you can be so heartbroken over something you screwed up yourself."

Sam shook his head, his hand rubbing his forehead. "Then why don't you go and ask him?" he offered, then quickly adding, "seriously though, Puck, stop being a jerk. He needs a friend. Not a judge."

Puck opened his mouth to say something, but then just nodded. Even though he didn't understand, he still cared about Blaine. "You're sounding gay again." He couldn't restrain himself from making one last comment before he started to make his way outside, meanwhile earning an unheard chuckle from Sam.

Outside, Blaine was to found on the edge of the pavement on the corner of the street. It was the more quiet part, away from the parking lot. Puck stared at the boy for a moment, who was quietly sipping from his glass as he was watching the nothingness in front of him.

"Hey, buddy." The unexpected, familiar voice made him look up.

"Hi," the indifferent response sounded.

Puck sat down next to his friend, clenching his jaw for a moment as he thought of what to say. Should he pretend like he didn't know what had happened and let Blaine spill it himself or should he just jump right into it?

"So, you're heartbroken, huh?" Yeah, the second thought had seemed more in character to him.

His friend sighed, turning down his gaze before he shrugged. "I don't even know anymore, Noah," his voice sounded a little muffled. "I mean, I still feel guilty and I clearly haven't gotten over him. And…" He swallowed the words he wanted to say. "…I'm just wondering how much longer it will take."

Silently nodding, Puck sat there. "Well…I can't tell you that, I think. I mean, hell, I hardly feel guilty over anything," he failed to cheer Blaine up. Another short silence fell between them before the taller one decided to try again. "Maybe you just need some more time…"

The curly haired boy just shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know," he replied in a long, deep sigh.

"Do you wanna go back inside? You know, try to have some fun and make you forget?" Puck offered after a while, figuring making someone forget something was his expertise.

"Come on, Blainers. Let's dance!" Sam suddenly sounded behind them. He ruffled the boy's hair playfully. "And don't tell me you don't want to, because I know that you've been fantasizing about getting on this stripper body." The blond made a body roll, smiling goofily as he ran a hand through his hair.

Puck mentally facepalmed himself, but still chuckled at Sam's excitement. Now that's cheery, he thought. "Yeah, man, you can pretend you've got two boyfriends for a night," he added as he stood up from the ground.

Blaine made a rocking, side to side motion, as if he was debating the option, but the blushed grin on his face had already given him away. So a second later he felt four strong hands picking him up from the pavement and steadying him on his feet. Then, one muscled arm wrapped around his shoulders as the other found its way around his waist.

"Woo!" Sam exclaimed as they made their way back inside, bouncing a little.

"You're sounding gay about it."


	3. Miserable Mondays

_Chapter two_

With his target set at 800, Sam Evans made his way downstairs. It was the Monday after his Friday night out and, naturally, the blond wasn't looking forward to get into the weekly perils. He had promised himself to avoid as much stress as he could for that week, but as soon as he entered the kitchen of his family's house, he knew that promise was in vain. His young siblings were loudly bickering around the kitchen table, his mother was desperately screaming for some order and meanwhile his dad was looking through the morning newspaper. He was still dressed in only his bathrobe, since he didn't have a job to go to anyway. Sam's stomach groaned and rumbled, which made him roll his eyes at himself in annoyance. As a weird, contradicting solution, the blond grabbed an apple from the kitchen counter, instead of having his morning cereal. The same cereal he had loved so much since he was little. The teenager thought that, if he felt hungry, he should eat something less than he normally would. It didn't make sense, at all, but to him it did. Maybe it served as punishment for his body, which had started to become more like this third person than his own self. And if you wanted someone to stop doing something, but they ended up doing it anyway, you needed to punish them.

"Stacy, get dressed now or so God help me, you won't see any TV for a week," Mrs. Evans threatened.

See, his mom did it too.

"Anything in there, dad?" Sam asked after he had sat down, enjoying his change in breakfast preference as if he always ate an apple in the morning.

"No…" Dwight Evans muttered in response, a helpless sigh leaving his lungs. "I'm either not qualified enough or they're advertising for unpaid internships."

"You know…I could pick up my old job, if we really need the money…" his son offered, even though he didn't know where he would find the time to do so. In all honesty, Sam didn't want to get back to that job, but as he had proven before, he would do anything to help his family. He had found his old job by accident and since the club was only open at night, it had fitted perfectly into his schedule. He would go to school during the day and earn some hundreds in the evenings. Sure, it wasn't a job to be proud of, but at that time he had figured, why not? His body was in amazing shape and it didn't involve complete nudity nor was there any touching. He would just give a lap dance to some random bachelorette and with that, in his underwear crammed, money his family had to be able to pay some bills. When his parents had asked where the money had come from he had, of course, lied. His mom already felt guilty for him getting a job altogether, so imagine if Sam had told her that her innocent son had become a stripper. She wouldn't be able to look at him anymore, probably not even at herself.

"No, Sam," Dwight refused, realizing that a father shouldn't bother his son with these sort of problems. "We've come back to Lima so that you can finally enjoy being a teenager, not to be the provider of the family."

"But, dad, I don't mind…" At least it was half a lie. Sam couldn't stop feeling responsible nor could he ignore the urge to help out wherever he could.

"Sam, stop it. You're not getting a job again," Mr. Evans ended the discussion.

And with that, Sam's stripper time was put back in the definite past. It had already been there, because there had been a time when things were looking up for Sam and his family. They had moved to another town, where his dad did find a job, but then that didn't work out for a long time. In the end the blond had been missing his friends and even his old school. After the conversation of being tired of being forced to grow up, his parents decided to try again in Lima. His dad had to find a new job anyway, so Mr. and Mrs. Evans figured that they could at least try again in a town where their oldest child felt at home. Where he could live somewhat of a normal teenage life.

The horn that sounded outside pulled Sam out of his thoughts. He threw the rest of his apple into the bin, grabbed the lunch his mom had so lovingly prepared for him and made his way to the hallway.

"Have fun at school, honey!" Mary still managed to say before the door got slammed.

A soft smile painted Sam's face as he laid eyes on his friend in the car. He walked around, opened the door and settled himself in the passenger's seat.

"Good morning, Samuel," Blaine greeted him in that cheerful way he always did. Sam had always wondered how the boy could be so excited on a Monday morning, but he never bothered enough to ask.

"Morning, Blaine, how was your weekend?"

The curly haired one sighed before answering. "It was alright, thanks…yours?"

Sam shrugged. "Same as usual, doing homework, failing to relax and getting annoyed by my brother and sister." It sounded more bitterly than he had intended, than he should have intended, because knowing Blaine…

"Are you alright? I can help you out with some stuff if you want to."

Precisely. Blaine would go all helpful. And even though Sam knew that the boy's intentions were good, the blond didn't want his help. It would probably end up in telling him everything that was going on in his life and Sam wasn't ready for that. Nor for the lecture about his eating habits. That and he just didn't want to burden Blaine with his worries, that seemed so irrelevant and small.

So he forced a smile onto his face and turned to him. "Nah, it's fine. I'm a little grumpy because I've just woken up. I didn't mean to sound so negative," he saved himself.

Blaine pursed his lips and nodded silently. "Alright, if you say so…"

"Oh, by the way, have you done your Chemistry assignments?" Sam decided to throw the conversation onto another subject.

"No," his friend snorted, "I've been studying for the Spanish test, which I've heard, is a real piece of work."

A stinging pain went through Sam's forehead when the palm of his hand hit his skin. "Crap! I totally forgot about that one!" he exclaimed helplessly, followed by some silent inside cursing. A groan escaped from his throat as he sank more into his seat.

Blaine mouthed an "oh" and had a look on his face that said "you're in trouble", but still tried to be supportive. "You'll be fine. Maybe it isn't that hard…" It didn't sound very convincing.

When the boys had arrived at school, Sam opened his bag and searched for the sandwiches that were meant for lunch. "Sorry, mom," he softly apologized as he threw them into the trash. Knowing that he would fail his Spanish test today forced him to downgrade his calorie target. At least then he wouldn't feel like a total disaster at the end of the day.

He and Blaine got to their lockers to change the books they had been needing over the weekend for the ones that they required for their first classes. Blaine was the first one to finish he turned to his friend and casually leaned against the metal.

"Hey, do you have any plans for tonight? Because this new movie has just gotten out and I've found a great download link on the internet," he offered, the small sparkle of hope not sounding through in his voice.

"What's it about?" Sam asked, his interest obviously caught, the movie freak.

"It's about this group of women in college who sing Acapella songs. It's called Pitch Perfect," Blaine explained, "I figured with Glee Club and all it might be fun to watch."

Sam showed him an excited smile and nodded. "Yeah, sure. I'll come by your place later today."

"I was thinking of inviting Noah, too, but I don't know if he'd be into such movie," Blaine hesitated out loud.

His friend chuckled. "Oh, come on, you know Puck. He would never admit it, but he secretly loves that stuff. Invite him, it would be nice to be with the three of us again."

Then the bell sounded through the corridor, announcing first period was about to start. Sam left with a pad on Blaine's shoulder, who released a relieved sigh when his friend had walked away. At least he wouldn't be alone tonight. It had become tiring, though, always finding excuses to invite Sam to hang out. But Blaine needed it. It wasn't necessarily about Sam, even though the guy was hot and if Blaine hadn't still been in love with Kurt, he would surely have a little crush on him, but more about the being with someone part.

Since the break up, Blaine had found out that he and Kurt had always been spending time together. Given that they weren't an item anymore, Blaine had started to feel more lonely with every day. It also didn't help that his parents were quite the ambitious career makers. Sure, they could afford to live in, what was almost considered a mansion, situated on the edge of Lima. But Blaine felt like that house wasn't even needed. His mom and dad both made made long hours and often had to travel for business, so they weren't there most of the time. Not to mention his older brother, who had moved out long ago. Never before had it bothered Blaine this much, because he hadn't been around that much himself. After elementary school he had chosen to go to Dalton Academy, which was an all boys high school with a campus. The decision had been made with lots of consideration and it had obstructed Blaine from being alone all the time. Then Kurt had gone there for a while, because he was bullied at McKinley High. He had went back, though, and because of their relationship, Blaine ended up switching too. But now that Kurt had graduated and was following his dreams in New York, Blaine didn't have many people around him anymore. The loneliness would come to him immediately after he would come home from school and when he entered the silent house that was supposed to be his home. He would never get used to only being greeted by the echo of his own footsteps. But in comparison to the weekends that occurrence was a small thing. Blaine had tried to spend his Saturdays out in town, but even in a place full of people the boy couldn't help but feel alone. And where his Sundays had usually involved spending the day in bed, watching movies or America's Next Top Model with Kurt, they were now spent mourning over all those happy times.

It had been the reason Blaine always seemed in such a good mood on Monday morning, a day hated by every teenager in the world. To him, on the contrary, it was a relief. Especially since Sam and he had become such good friends over the past few months. The blond had supported him many times. And even though Blaine still wasn't the same boy he used to be, spending time with his new friend did help. The only thing that bothered Blaine was that he sometimes sensed that Sam wasn't doing okay, but every time the smaller one would ask about it, Sam would fake a smile and wave it away. He figured that some people were just more personal about their problems. In contrast to Blaine, who seemed to spray his grief all over the place.

Clearly, everyone had their own ways in dealing with their issues. Still, it would've been a nice distraction for Blaine to help Sam figure some stuff out or even tutor him, because it would mean less loneliness for him. And the curly haired boy knew Sam did need a tutor. His grades hadn't been doing so well lately.

Lunchtime came surprisingly fast to Blaine, whilst for others it had been taking hours. He sat down at their usual table. Sam was already there and Blaine couldn't restrain a chuckle escaping from his mouth when he saw the boy desperately scrolling through his Spanish book.

"Samuel, let it go. It's not the end of the world," Blaine spoke as he sat down, putting his tray with gross cafeteria food in front of him. "Put the book away and get yourself some food." He looked down at the consumables presented to him. "Or something that comes close to food."

Sam groaned, closing his book before he resting his head on it. "I'm not hungry," he mumbled.

His friend shook his head in disagreement, he had noticed that Sam hadn't been eating regularly, but didn't have the guts to say something about it. As said before, some people didn't like sharing their problems.

"You gotta eat something, though," Blaine gave in to the urge to at least try.

"I know," Sam sighed, "but not now, I'm just not feeling like it."

Blaine forfeited with a shrug of his shoulders and started searching for his phone in his pocket. No messages. It didn't come as a surprise, but Blaine was still hoping to hear something from Kurt. But it slowly started to occur to him that that would never happen again. He had screwed up and his only option was to accept it.

"Let it go, Blaine. It happened. Now move on."

Blaine frowned at the harshness the words were spoken with. Nothing like Sam. "Since when are you a mind reader, Samuel?" he fired back, the small grin on his face covering up his confusion.

"You're just really easy to read."

Silence fell between the boys as Blaine tried to enjoy his lunch, while Sam was over-thinking the stressful things he shouldn't be thinking of. And they both weren't aware of it, but the two friends were actually doing the same thing. At one point, they were even debating the same option, maybe each in their own way, but the outcome showed many similarities. They were both building up courage. They were both hesitating. And finally they both put their fears aside and took a chance It was Blaine who cut the knot first.

"Hey, Sam…if you would let me, I could really give you a hand with your English. I've been a tutor at Dalton and I has even gotten Noah to study at one point, so I'm sure I can help you a lot."

Sam was second.

"That would be nice…actually."

And that was the start of them supporting each other,  oblivious to the fact how much they would be helping each other out. Or maybe there really was a subconscious that told them to show small acts of kindness that would be for a greater good. Nonetheless, it would start small with Blaine feeling less lonely and some stress release for Sam. But it would end up in salvation for the both of them.

For the three of them, actually.

Because two hours after lunch time on that particular Monday, Noah Puckerman had already been at the liquor store. Walking out, he praised himself for being able to make a perfect fake ID. With his BFF Jack, covered in a paper bag, in his hand, he made his way back home. As soon as his mom had announced to go grocery shopping, Puck had quickly decided to do some shopping himself. He had to get home soon, though, if he didn't want to hear his lady rant about his "unnecessary and disturbing" habit. So the ride home with his truck had been fast, and maybe slightly dangerous, but he was glad he had managed. Jack and him would be able to spend some quality time with each other without getting interrupted for a little while.

If someone would ask why he would drink so much and so often, Noah would always say that he liked the taste. He wasn't the most clever guy on earth, but even he knew that "wanting to forget" wasn't a correct answer. He had just figured that life somehow seemed to be more fun when he was tipsy – or hammered – and at least he wouldn't be blaming himself for being such a failure. The search for his father had been a big joke and he wasn't doing anything now that he had returned to Ohio. That's right, no college, no job, no nothing. Just himself and his bottled friend.

And now that he had finished half of his drink, Puck could say that life was good. He had all the time in the world to do anything he wanted – not that he was doing something with it, but still – and he didn't have much to worry about. Sure, the many questions he had about his dad hadn't disappeared, but he figured that there wasn't much he could do about it anyway.

But despite the fact that the Puckerman hadn't much to worry about it, he still felt miserable. His life was a joke and instead of doing something about it, he locked himself in his old bedroom and numbed himself from everything. If he hadn't run into his old friends last Friday night, he probably would've felt even more of a failure. It had felt nice to be around them again, as if he hadn't been away for four months. Sam was still the same dorky, and in a way cute, guy and Blaine was still decent and well-rounded, features Puck could learn a lot from. Catching up with them had been fun and it made Puck realize how much he had actually missed them for all that time. During high school, Sam had been his main man and Blaine helped him out with studying in the end. Hell, they were practically best friends, even though the rest of the Glee Club most likely didn't know that.

Then the phone on his desk made a buzzing sound. It startled Puck, causing him to spill a bit of the Jack Daniel's down his neck and over his shirt. "Damn it," he grumbled, getting up from his lying position on the bed to grab his phone from his desk. Blaine had sent him a text, inviting him over for a movie night. Puck grinned at the screen and typed back that he was in. He made sure not to show all of his excitement, because that would be a bit too much. He was still the proud owner of the "badass" title. With a couple of big gulps he emptied his bottle of, to him sane, liquid. The buzz seemed to kick in immediately, which caused a loud singing to be heard through the Puckerman's household while Noah was in the shower. After his personal serenade he got dressed, deciding on nothing too fancy, but something he would still look good in. He always had this tendency to show off his huge biceps and amazing pecs, so that was why his closet mostly involved tight shirts. And maybe he didn't want to miss out on the appreciative look Blaine would give him and Sam's jealous, self-consciousness.

The trip downstairs was taken with too much enthusiasm, because as soon as he entered the living room, his mom was there giving him an annoyed look.

"Did you have to bounce down the stairs? The whole house was shaking," she commented.

"Do you have to nag me every time I see you?" Puck heard himself fire back, already mentally kicking himself for talking with such a slur.

"What?!" His mother got up from her place on the sofa, slamming her magazine on the coffee table before she walked over towards her son. With one hand holding his face at his chin, she examined him carefully, suspicion showing when she narrowed her eyes.

"Are you drunk?!" she exclaimed the rhetorical question when she had noticed, "for crying out loud, Noah, it has just turned evening. And it's a Monday!"

Puck couldn't help but chuckle softly at her disappointment. "Well, it's not like the days of the week make any difference to my life."

"Then maybe you should start looking for a job," his mom bit back, returning her hand. "Where are you going anyway?"

"Blaine's. Movie night," The answer sounded.

"Of course. And that required being shitfaced beforehand?" It was obvious that her son's behavior was upsetting Mrs. Puckerman, hence the fowl language.

Puck shrugged it off. "No, I just felt like it."

His mom sat back down on the sofa, shaking her head in disagreement. "Well, let's hope that you won't end up like your father."

Something snapped inside Noah when his mind made sense of those words. He clenched his jaw, balled his fists and tried to catch his mom's gaze. "What do you mean?"

Just then Mrs. Puckerman realized what she had said. She took a moment to tone down her provocative attitude by closing her eyes briefly to calm hersef. A quality Puck still had to learn. "Nothing," she answered controlled, "I shouldn't have said that."

"No! No, mom, tell me what you meant with that!" Puck had now raised his voice, a glimpse of desperation caught in it.

"Noah," his mother looked up to meet her sons gaze, "let it go. I shouldn't have said that."

The thing that had at first snapped now burst and Puck took a more aggressive stand. "Tell me. Now. Mom!" he shouted, "he's my dad! I deserve some fucking answers!" Adrenaline was rushing through his veins, along with the alcohol that was only strengthening his emotions. The desperation, the anger, all the emotions hit him like a train crash and he dug his nails into the palm of his balled hand, trying to keep himself from punching something.

"Bye, Noah," his mom dismissed him.

A frustrated groan sounded through the house and Puck's fist met one of the walls. His mom shocked and looked up, taken off guard by her son's outburst.

Puck angrily walked out and made his way over to Blaine's house. Or mansion, because damn, that thing was a fucking fortress. He had been there a couple of times and the size of it still amazed him. He always wondered why the Anderson's had needed so much space, even at the time when Blaine's brother Cooper  lived with them.

Still annoyed and grumbling, Puck arrived at Blaine's house. He rang the doorbell, impatiently hopping on the ball of his heels. Bouncing footsteps sounded from the other side before the door got opened and Puck was greeted by a bright smiling Blaine.

"Hey, Noah."

"Hobbit," Puck responded, trying to let go of his anger, but failing miserably.

"Sam's already upstairs," his friend ignored the nickname, "how are you?"

The badass sucked in a breath through his nose, held it for a moment and then let it slip out, trying to settle down a little. "I'm alright, a little tipsy, though," he chuckled.

"You've been hanging out with Jack, haven't you?" A mixture of disappointment and humor was weaved through Blaine's voice.

"Yup," Puck confirmed his expectations, "he's my best friend."

Blaine didn't know how to respond to that, so he just shook his head. He closed the door behind Puck, following up to his bedroom, where a certain blond had already installed himself on the carpet. "Hey, Puck, what's up?" Sam smiled sincerely.

"Nothing much," the one in question sighed.

The comic freak got up to give him a friendly hug, but backed away when he smelled his breath. "Oh, hello, Jack," he joked, waving his hand in front of his face. "I didn't know he was coming too."

Puck smirked as he shrugged it off, dropping himself on the edge of the bed. "So, what are we watching?"

"Pitch Perfect," Blaine answered while he searched for the movie on his laptop. "It's about this Acapella group. I've heard it's great."

"Ah, a bunch of girls and fags singing happy songs…that sounds familiar," Puck said with slight irony and sarcasm.

"Oh, come on, man. You love this kind of stuff," Sam reminded him.

Puck held his friend's gaze for a moment, a bored look on his face until he couldn't last it for any longer.

"Maybe a little," he admitted casually, moving himself to sit down on the floor, just like his friends. He didn't notice the wink Sam shot towards Blaine, a reference to what the blond had said earlier that day.

"So, any news from McKinley?" Puck asked after a while.

"I'm gonna be Sam's tutor."

"Blaine!"

"What? Is that weird?" the curly haired boy asked with a confused look on his face.

"Yeah, Sam? Is that weird?" Puck had also turned to look at the blond, his eyebrows pointing upwards, expectantly.

Sam's green eyes darted from Blaine's dark ones to Puck's hazel's and he swallowed. "No…" He knew perfectly well that if he'd say it sounded lame that Noah would smack him for it, so he decided to keep his mouth shut.

"Good boy," Puck responded with a satisfied grin. Which made Sam roll his eyes and bump his fist against his shoulder.

Blaine watched his friends, letting out another relieved sigh. It felt great to be around them. No loneliness, no thinking about Kurt, just company that took his mind off of things. But he had noticed that Puck seemed to be a little worked up when he arrived at his house and, as usual, Blaine didn't know if he should mention it or not. Noah had always been a guy that was hard to figure out, as far as Blaine was concerned Puck could explode and walk off at any given moment. A walking time bomb. A minefield.

"I don't mean to pry, Noah, but are you alright? You looked kind of…odd…when I opened the door."

For the second time that day Blaine found his courage and let his curious nature get the best of him.

Puck was taken off guard by Blaine's outspoken observation and for a moment he didn't know how to respond. Debating if he wanted to tell his friends about what had happened at home or not, he straddled a hand through his mohawk. His long silence was now alerting Sam and the blond scooted a little closer as he waited patiently for what was about to come.

The hazel-eyed boy realized that if he would tell his friends about his fallout with his mom, he was also obligated to tell them about the search for his dead. And even though Puck thought the opposite of it, it was now fortunate that a drunk mind always spoke a sober heart. Before he realized what he was saying the words were already spilling from his mouth.

"I've been searching for my father the past couple of months…and I failed. My mom refuses to talk about him and the only lead she gave me were the divorce papers that she had received thirteen years ago. They were sent from Los Angeles." He averted his gaze to the floor as he sucked in a breath. "Tonight I sort of exploded…but it's whatever." He tried to get back to his careless composure, shrugging it off.

"Noah…" Blaine sighed softly, "why didn't you tell us?"

Puck scoffed at that. "And then what? I'd have to look at your face that would have been full of pity. I don't need that."

Sam frowned, kind of offended. "Dude, how could you say that? We don't do that to make you feel bad. It's just…"

"…We care about you," Blaine jumped in to finish Sam's sentence when he noticed the boy's struggle.

"Yeah."

Then a weird rumble sounded through the room, earning Sam two weird looks. His stomach was grumbling again and all he could do was laughing it off, mortified. Great timing, you moron.

"Thanks, guys," Puck ignored it. He had decided to give in to their sympathy, "but it doesn't matter anymore. I didn't find anything in LA, so it's a dead end. I guess I'm just not meant to have a father."

"That's bullshit, Puck, and you know it," Sam said, patting his hand on his friend's back.

"Or maybe it's for the better," Blaine voiced softly. "I mean…I'd like to believe that everything happens for a reason…"

"Oh, so your break up with Kurt was for the better?" He didn't know why he felt the urge to attack Blaine all of a sudden. Puck knew it was a low blow.

The curly haired boy showed a weak smile, his body weighing down on the one hand he had put down on the carpet. "Well…yeah…maybe in time I'll figure out how exactly..."

Puck frowned. He look downed and noticed the upset look Sam was giving him, so he sighed, hanging his head. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." He walked over to Blaine, sat down next to him and extracted an arm, wrapping it around the boy's shoulders.

When Blaine was about to say that it was okay, Sam's stomach decided to start the third World War, which made both of his friends look up.

"Can someone please put some food in there? Jesus fucking Christ," Puck groaned, rubbing his forehand with his free hand.

Blaine started laughing at that, resting his face on top of the mohawked man's knee while that same guy was granted another shoulder bump. Sam ruffled Blaine's dark hair as he always did with a loud "shut up", smiling through his nerves.

When their laughter had died, Blaine went back to his laptop again, starting the movie he wanted to see. He turned around to find his spot next to Puck again. Putting an arm around Blaine's shoulders had felt pretty nice, probably just because of the physical contact mixed with the alcohol in his system, so he did it again. Sam watched as he did so, a dorky smile pulling on the corners of his lips.

They didn't question the intimate moments the three friends had every now and then, somehow it had always felt right. The boys had figured through some trial and error over the years that they could be themselves around each other, so it wasn't a big deal. It even wouldn't have made a difference if Blaine had been straight. They were open with each other, and some friendly affection from time to time wasn't something to be ashamed of. It was another one of those unspoken thoughts all three of them had, but were never voiced. Blaine didn't bring it up because he didn't want his friends to think he was crushing on them or something. Sam thought it would only make things uncomfortable if he would say something about it. And Puck struggled too much with his ego to voice his dependence on it.

"Group hug!" Sam announced all of a sudden, taking his two friends off guard. He wrapped his arms around them tightly.

"Sam. Seriously. Stop sounding so gay."


	4. Triangle

_Chapter three_

The rest of the school week had been uneventful. Blaine's dad had come back from his business trip for a day or two, but had already been back at the airport by Friday. The day before that Sam had received his expected F for the Spanish test and even though he had seen it coming, it still upset him. Especially when he started to calculate the averages of all his classes and found out that he was failing most of them. Luckily for him, Thursday night had been crowned tutoring night. With Blaine's help there was a slight chance that his English would improve before Christmas. December had just started to spread its holiday joy, which would leave him with three weeks before break. Three weeks in where Puck would be wondering when his mother would stop ignoring him. Since his outburst there hadn't been much words exchanged in the Puckerman's household. Okay, maybe Puck should have been the bigger guy and apologize for his behavior last Monday, but he felt that some of the things he had said were rightful. Anyhow, they both had questions. Mrs. Puckerman's were about her son's well-being, while Puck had been continuously asking himself if his dad had been an alcoholic. His mom's comment had been too typical to be just something random.

So you could say that Noah was glad that Saturday was around the corner, because Saturday meant weekend and that meant his drinking could be reasoned. But when he was about to walk out of the door, Sam had decided to take a day off of his studying and invited him over to play some video games. So while Puck made his way over to Sam's instead of to the liquor store, Blaine had decided to spend the day in bed, which he knew would end up in memorizing his times with Kurt. However, this time, the boy had a plan. He figured that, if he really wanted to get over his broken heart, that he should try remembering the bad times with his ex. With that would come the conclusion that the break up had been for the better. Or so he thought.

He remembered the way Kurt's voice would squeak when he got upset, for example. Or…or when New York got so interesting that Blaine didn't seem to exist anymore. Or maybe the time when Kurt got jealous because of his kiss with Rachel. He was such a hypocrite about the possibility that Blaine might've been bisexual, even though that turned out to be untrue.

But no matter how hard the dark-eyed boy tried, his memories would always end happily. And it made him miss Kurt so much. So much that it just ached inside his chest. So much that laying there, in his king-sized, in his most comfortable PJ's with his favorite chick-flick movie showing on his laptop, wasn't making him feel any better. His bare feet touched the warm carpet as he felt a sudden urge coming up for ice cream. The halls were taunting him with the sound of his echoing footsteps again, reminding him that he was, indeed, alone. A feeling that he never seemed to get used to, because no matter how many thick clothes he wore or how much he turned up the heating in the house, he would always have that cold rush sneering through his body. The ice cold realization of his loneliness. A loneliness he wanted to get over, but couldn't without feeling sad or pathetic for inviting one of his friends over. Again. Little did Blaine know that both Sam and Puck could use his wise words, because without him, they only had distracting games.

"You suck!" Puck exclaimed, his controller up in the air, ready to be thrown across Sam's bedroom in his angry rant.

The blond could only laugh over his friend's defeat. "Then why are you losing?" he fired back, irony coating his voice.

"Because…because…" The sentence was finished by a frustrated groan. It was fucking ridiculous anyway, Puck rocked this shooting game, so Sam was definitely cheating.

"Another round?" Sam tried to distract his friend, after noticing that Puck was still on the verge of smashing his controller against the wall.

"Whatever," his lousy respond sounded, focusing his eyes on the screen again.

Video games had been their thing since forever. The boys would always challenge each other when they felt frustrated, finding that blowing each other's heads off could be very…nurturing. But there had been times where putting their minds off of things wasn't working, just postponing dealing with their issues. The two teenagers would each lie in their own bed, twisting and turning because they couldn't get comfortable. They would over-think their problems until deep into the night. Even Puck did, although many people didn't consider him a great thinker.

Individually, each boy had their own indicator as to when something was really bothering them. Puck would turn to Blaine for some wise words, optional solutions.  Sam would go to Puck to pull him back down to earth. And Blaine would take an awkward chance into giving Sam a hug, in need of some warmth. It completed the triangle and was the main reason why the three different boys had become friends with each other. Because even though that they had their own way in comforting one another, the best moments had been when it were all three of them. The triangle would turn into a blissful circle where, in the end, all of their sorrow would fade away.

It was something they had never thought about nor realized, but was surely there. And it always started, with video games.

Eight rounds and three buckets of ice cream – for Blaine – later, dusk had fallen around Lima. In moments, the misery of the youngest of the three friends would hit its peak and the oldest of them would become hungry.

"I'm ordering pizza, do you want one?" Puck offered, not waiting for an answer as he was already searching for the mobile in his pocket.

"Nah, I'm good, tha-"

"Yeah, hi, can I get two large pepperoni specials with extra cheese?" The mohawked man put his hand on the speaker for a moment. "Shut up, you always want pizza," he hissed.

Sam allowed the air to flee from his lungs, which resulted in a deep sigh that – if Puck wouldn't be so oblivious – told a story. The blond was already near his set target of 400 calories that day and if he would eat the whole pizza, he would've doubled that. While pursing his lips, he thought of a way to get out of, what felt like, his death. Maybe if he would set Puck up with a game when the pizza had arrived, he wouldn't pay much attention to how much Sam was eating. He had already calculated that he could eat one slice. Two, if he would loosen the strings on himself a little, which actually wasn't an option.

"Great. Thanks, later." Puck hang up and got back to his more relaxed position on the floor. He then noticed that Sam had begun nervously fumbling with his fingers.

"You okay, bro?" he asked, slight concern in his voice.

"Huh? What?" Sam got pulled out of his thoughts. "Oh, yeah, of course. I'm fine," he forced a smile onto his face.

Puck looked at Sam's fingers again. When the blond noticed he quickly grabbed a firm hold of the controller again.

Twenty minutes later the doorbell rang and Puck was the first one to get up to run downstairs. It hadn't taken him very long before he had started to feel at home at the Evans' place. They were friendly people and, unlike other parents, they had actually given Noah a chance before judging him on his appearance. Unlike Blaine's mother, who had granted him a disgusted look the first time she had laid eyes on the mohawk. Then again, it didn't matter that the bitch didn't like him, since Blaine's parents were never home anyway. And for a split moment, right before he opened the door and took the pizzas from the delivery boy, he asked himself if Blaine wouldn't be lonely from time to time.

But the smell of junk food infiltrated his nose, so many thoughts were soon to be forgotten as multi-tasking wasn't really Noah's thing. Sam's senses had also picked up on the smell and where Puck was delighted by it, Sam already felt nauseous.

"Fuck yeah," the oldest teenager exclaimed, grabbing a slice and starting to munch on it as if his life depended on it.

Normally that wouldn't have bothered Sam, but the sounds that were coming from his friend's mouth were suddenly making him feel sick. And when Puck turned around to give him a weird look – tomato sauce on his left cheek – Sam realized that he was staring.

"Dude, seriously, are you sure you're alright?" Puck managed to voice through his chewing, "you've been acting a little odd lately."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked in confusion, scared that Noah might be smarter than he looked like.

"Well, first of all there's the weight loss, then your rumbling stomach at Blaine's and now that I come to think of it, you look a little pale," Puck responded. He examined his friend with his hazel eyes.

Sam scowled and shrugged with his shoulders. "So? What are you trying to say?"

Puck didn't know how to respond to that. He tilted his head to the side a little, thinking of what he was, indeed, trying to say. Hell, he had just noticed some stuff and maybe it didn't mean anything, but yeah, he still found that Sam hadn't been quite himself lately.

Unfortunately, the mohawked guy couldn't tie the strings together, so with an indifferent sounding "never mind" he got back to eating his pizza.

And while Sam felt like he could breathe normally again, Blaine was sure he had hit rock bottom. Fine, yes, he was lonely and he needed company, so whatever. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and texted his friends, asking them if they'd like to come over. Getting up to dispose the evidence of his dramatic binge eating, he walked downstairs to the kitchen. He dumped the three empty ice buckets in the bin, along with a roll of his eyes, annoyed with himself for being such a…girl…about it all. Back upstairs again he dressed himself and when he had finally settled for a black bowtie on that Saturday evening, Sam had finished his first slice of pizza.

Puck had already downed his entirely. The whole time that Sam had been nibbling on that one slice he had tried to come up with some clever excuse so that he didn't have to eat the whole thing. He could say that he was feeling sick, but that probably also meant cancelling on Blaine's invitation. That would be a shame, because Sam was looking forward to see him.

"My God, I'm so full I think I might throw up," Puck commented, rubbing his stomach as he was lying on Sam's bedroom floor. The blond shook his head at him before it hit him that Puck's words had might actually given him a solution.

But throwing up intentionally, could he do that? Could he just go the bathroom and stick his finger down his throat? It didn't sound too hard, if he was honest, but something was withholding him. Then again, there wasn't anything wrong with him if he did it just this one time, right? As long as it wouldn't become a habit he was fine. Besides, if he did it then he would at least be able to sleep tonight, because he would've successfully reached his target. After making the decision, he picked up his second slice. And some minutes later, longer than he normally would take, he had finished half of his dinner.

"Ugh, I can't anymore," he then said, lying down in the same position as Puck to strengthen his act.

"I know right," Puck responded absentmindedly, his eyes closed lazily.

"Back in a sec," Sam announced, scrambling himself up from the floor before he made his way to the bathroom.

A last moment of hesitation hit the blond as he looked down the toilet, but he overcame that by reminding himself that fear was just a emotion and that one could get over that. He bent over a little and moved his hand towards his lips. For the first time in his life, Sam praised the Lord for having such a big mouth, because he could easily fit two fingers in there. When the tip of his middle finger hit the back of his throat his gag reflex kicked in, making his body cringe. Another three times later his legs started to tremble, so the blond figured that it might be better if he sat down. In case he would collapse…or miss... Well, that was an awkward thought. Tears started to well up in his eyes as he gagged again, but this time leaving his fingers where they were, tickling his throat. He coughed, but pushed through, trying not to be too loud as his dinner started to move up his gullet. He was pretty sure he could feel his stomach contract every time he heaved. Then, it came out.

With a mixed feeling of satisfaction, confusion and guilt, Sam flushed the toilet, erasing the evidence of his little trick. He got up, but still felt a little wobbly, so he held himself steady by the sink.

"Bro, you alright?" Puck's voice then sounded from the other side of the door.

Sam's emerald eyes grew wider and he scraped his throat – which hadn't been a smart idea, since it was still slightly burning from the gall that had come up with his vomit. "I'm fine, why do you ask?" he tried to sound as blunt as he could, intending to let Puck think that what he had heard wasn't what he thought it was. Whatever that was anyway.

"I just…never mind," Puck responded, rubbing his forehead as he turned around to walk back to Sam's bedroom. Was he imagining sounds now? Maybe he really should stop drinking so much. "Anyway, hurry up! We need to leave if we wanna be in time for Blaine's thing."

The sound of that roaring engine could only be produced by Puck's truck, Blaine knew as he started to make his way to the front door of his house. He had been trying to come up with something for them to do while his friends were over, but couldn't think of anything. Hoping that it wouldn't be a problem, Blaine allowed Sam and Puck to enter the mansion.

"Samuel, are you okay? You look a little pale," he commented as the blond passed him, who grumbled something inaudible in response.

Puck, who came in after Sam, made a motion with his hand that let Blaine know that he probably shouldn't mention it anymore. The curly haired boy shrugged innocently and followed them into the living room. He dropped himself on the sofa while his friends had already taken their spot on the other one.

"Home alone?" Puck teased, knowing his question had been rhetorical.

Blaine shot him a not amused look and decided that it would be better to not answer. "So what do you guys want to do?"

"Shouldn't you be the one with plan, you know, since you invited us over?" Sam asked, an expression on his face as if he was debating if the answer to that question was positive of negative.

"Well, I…"

"…You just wanted some company, didn't you?" Puck remembered his earlier thought at Sam's place. The smirk on his face showed that he was kind of satisfied with himself that he had figured it out, but Blaine didn't want to come across as helpless, so refused to admit that.

"No, not all. I just thought it would be fun to do something, is that so weird?" he shot back.

And Puck wouldn't be Puck if he would leave it at that. "Oh, really?" he sounded quasi surprised, "then what have you been doing all day?"

Blaine opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't think of anything. That was when Sam upped his eyebrows and watched him expectantly. When no words were exchanged, he broke the silence. "Blaine? It's okay to admit that what Puck said was true…I mean, look at the size of this house, man, and it's often just only you."

"I…no…yes…" Blaine stammered, clearly he hadn't been expecting this, "I…err…I…fine. I just missed you guys, okay?" He turned to Puck. "And don't start telling me that I'm sounding gay, because then you would be stating quite the obvious." The boy got up from his seat and walked over to the kitchen. "Anyone up for a drink? I feel like having a beer." And that came from the one who wasn't a huge fan of drinking.

What Blaine didn't know was that his two friends were now exchanging looks. Puck chuckled, still a little proud, while Sam's mind was processing the seriousness of the issue. "Do you really think he's lonely?" he whispered to his mohawked friend.

The smirk on Puck's face disappeared. "I don't know…could be. It was just a thought, because he tends to be a little clingy, no offence. But hey, I didn't think I was right. Hell, I'm never right."

Sam nodded silently, pursing his lips as he always did when he was thinking deeply. "Maybe we should cheer him up a little."

Puck grinned. "My way or your way?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

"My way." Sam shot him a weird look. "Definitely my way."

Blaine came back with three beers and right before Puck wanted to refuse, because he had to drive him and Sam back, the blond jumped in.

"We're staying over."

The smile that formed on Blaine's face was the answer to Sam and Puck's speculations.

"So how about a game of Never Ever?" Puck offered after the boys had taken the first chug of their drinks.

"Sure," Sam shrugged, "you guys already know everything about me anyway."

"What's that?" Blaine asked, mildly confused, as he was not too familiar with many drinking games.

"Oh," Puck sat up a little, "we take turns on saying something we have never done before and if you have done what is said, you drink. It's pretty simple."

"I think I can do that," Blaine grinned.

"Alright, then you start."

"I've never, ever, had sex with a girl," he said triumphantly.

"I think he's got it," Sam responded with a played annoyed look on his face.

Obviously, he and Puck took a sip from their bottle.

"Alright, my turn," Sam said, "I've never, ever, had the most solos in Glee Club."

"Ha-ha," Puck voiced teasingly, pointing his finger to Blaine, who took a sip. "I've never, fucking ever, lost at a video game."

Sam frowned. "Yes, you have, this afternoon."

"Dude, shut up."

"No, I won't. You can't cheat," Sam chuckled as they all drank.

"You cheated, too! There's no way in hell you could've beaten fairly."

"God, you're such a sore loser."

An hour later, the guys were already pretty wasted. The not-so-big-drinker had been first to go down. Sam was second. He usually didn't get drunk so quickly, but since his stomach now had more alcohol in it than food... And last was Puck, of course. He was just beyond tipsy and the game had turned out to get more interesting with every round. Remember that thing about drunk minds and sober hearts?

"I've never, freaking fucking ever, had a dad," the mohawked man sighed, causing the other two boys to empty their fourth drink.

Normally Blaine would've said that that technically wasn't true, but he figured he shouldn't make Puck even more miserable about the whole thing. Besides, he was too busy filling up his and Sam's glass with his own father's favorite whiskey – they had ran out of beer.

"I've never used two curse words in the same sentence," he giggled. Both his friends drank. "Hey, wha'ya know, I'm kinda good at this game!"

Puck rolled his eyes and Sam smirked, he had come up with one that would surely cause Blaine to drink.

"Well, Mr. Anderson," he slurred, "I've never kissed a guy."

"Too easy," Blaine responded, sticking out his tongue before he took a sip.

But to Sam's surprise, the person next to him on the sofa also showed some movement. He turned his head around as he saw Puck taking a sip, who shot him a weird look. "What?" he asked, his hands in the air, "oh, Jesus Christ, don't tell me you're surprised." He scoffed.

In the meantime, Blaine's face was showing all kinds of surprised excitement. He actually found the idea of Puck having kissed another guy pretty awesome. Knowing that Puck was straight, it showed a certain confidence about his sexuality. One that was very, very attractive to Blaine.

"I-I just figured that…" Sam stammered.

"Oh, come on, man, I'm all kinds of sexual," his friend snorted, shrugging it off, "besides, it's no big deal, just a kiss."

"Yeah, but still…with a guy…"

"Well, at least I'll die knowing that I've done it all," Puck responded, rolling his eyes at Sam's still surprised face. "Dude, stop looking at me as if I just admitted I have webbed toes or something," he scowled. "Really, it's no big deal. Here, look." He smirked as he stumbled his way over to the other sofa, where Blaine was situated.

It took a moment before the smallest one of the company realized what was about to happen, but when he did, his dark eyes grew wide. "Noah!" he exclaimed, but Puck's hands were already around his waist and Blaine could feel himself getting pulled closer.

Puck's broad chest met his shoulder and he watched the guy's eyes closing before he did the same. A pair of rough lips brushed against his and he gasped a little when Noah's mouth opened slightly. His cheeks started to burn when he felt the tip of his friend's tongue against his lips, hesitating a moment before he slowly gave in. Puck's tongue found his and they brushed against each other a couple of times before the mohawked guy  released his friend from his tight grip.

When they turned around, Sam's jaw had dropped an inch before he burst into laughter. "Oh my God!" he managed to voice, "You guys are…Puck…oh my God!"

"Whoa?!" the badass exclaimed, "you wanna give it a try?" He made a quick nod with his head towards Blaine.

"Hey! I'm not some kind of attraction in a theme park or some-"

"Shut up."

Meanwhile, Sam had gotten back to his drunk, serious self and was debating the option. "I don't know," he hesitated, "it did look kinda…I don't know…hot...or something? I don't know. Maybe it's because you guys are my friends and I gotta say you two would be cute together."

"But you thought it looked hot?" Puck repeated Sam's words.

"Well...yeah..." Sam shrugged a little.

"Then stop being such a girl about it and try it," Puck verbally pushed him, getting off of Blaine and sitting back down on his spot.

"I-I don't…" Sam stammered, staring into Blaine's eyes. "Would you…I mean...do..." He scraped his throat, grabbing himself together. "...Do you want to?"

The youngest shrugged lightly, averting his dark eyes from Sam's piercing gaze. "I guess I wouldn't mind it…at all…" He would be the biggest liar in the entire universe if he said he would.

Now Sam was the one sitting down next to Blaine. The palm of his hand found the boy's, still slightly burning, cheek. Still feeling a little uncomfortable, Sam licked his lips, but then moved closer. The distance between their faces shortened and they shut their eyes at the same moment. Sam swallowed a last time before he kissed his friend. It felt different to do it with a guy, kind of wrong, to be perfectly honest…but also kind of right. Blaine was a cute kisser and, whoa, did he taste sweet. His slightly smaller frame made Sam want to wrap his arms around him and pull him closer. He didn't get a chance to, though, because in the background, Puck was breaking the tension.

"Gays," he coughed.

His friends smiled through their kiss and Sam pointed his middle finger towards him before he moved away from Blaine.

"Now, tell me, was that so bad?" Puck smirked.

Sam shook his head and cleared his throat while Blaine suck a deep breath into his lungs. "Oh my God," he said, "you guys are insane." Sam moved back to his original place next to Puck.

"See? No biggy," the mohawked man shrugged. "Now, whose turn is it?"

"Wow! Hold it right there, young man," Blaine interrupted, pointing his finger at him. "Now I want to watch two guys kiss."

Puck frowned at him in surprise. "Fine," he grinned. "Whatever gets you off…" he added in a whisper, already scooting closer to Sam. "What do you say, Evans? You up for it?" he smirked teasingly.

"Bring it," Sam shot back, his heart still rapidly beating inside his chest. He wasn't going to back out and let Puck win.

And where Sam's first kiss with a guy had been lovingly, this one was definitely more intense. Then again, it was the Sex Shark who was pressing his lips against his. Puck noticed how willing Sam all of a sudden seemed, because he opened his mouth at the same time as he did. A soft moan even escaped the comic freak's mouth, which encouraged Puck to slide a hand through his blond hair. He softly tugged on the ends on the back of his head.

"Okay…wow…" Blaine stammered, not being able to keep his eyes off of his friends, not even when they'd stopped. "I gotta say…that was really hot to look at."

Sam giggled, slightly embarrassed, as he scratched his upper arm, while Puck just shrugged. "Of course it was," he said.


	5. Horrible Hangovers

_Chapter four_

When the boys – and especially Sam – felt like they had enough, their drinking game ended. Slurred conversation without much meaning continued for approximately half an hour. Then the boys decided it was time to get upstairs – Sam had once again been the cause of that, since his eyes were already falling shut. Cleaning would be done in the morning, so the three moved themselves to Blaine's bedroom. Puck had suddenly felt the need to test how drunk shortest friend was, so he had grabbed for his ankles a couple of times on the stairs. The result was a  squeaking Blaine and loud laughter from the two older boys.

"I don't think I have another bed, to be honest," Blaine admitted once they were in his room. He was scratching his head as wiggling his toes on the carpet, as if he was confused by the matter.

Obviously, he couldn't think clearly anymore. After all, his parents definitely had a bedroom and in that bedroom was, of course, a bed.

"Here's one!" Sam grumbled before letting himself drop onto Blaine's king sized mattress.

"Space enough for two," Puck mumbled, already in his dark colored boxers as he tried to release the covers from Sam's body weight. Once succeeded, he got under them, yawning loudly while Sam also had managed to pull his shirt over his head and lie back down. He was too tired to work on his belt and take off his jeans, so he just left them on.

In the meantime, Blaine had watched the debacle with a blunt look on his face. "So where'm I gonna sleep?" he slurred in question, pouting a little.

Sam didn't have to open his eyes to know that Puck was trying to exchange a knowing look with him. They both remembered that their friend had most likely been feeling lonely, so they stretched out an arm invitingly.

"You can have the middle," Sam mumbled.

"Just for one night, though," Puck added quickly, but the small smirk on his face showed that he was happy to please his friend.

A little sparkle lit up inside of Blaine at his friends' gestures. Restraining himself from squealing in delight, he turned off the lights and crawled onto the end of the bed. He clawed himself upwards to the pillow, where he laid his head down. He awkwardly shifted a couple of times, but then accepted that there would be some shoulder-touching.

But, to his surprise, Puck suddenly turned on his side and laid an arm on the sheets. It draped exactly around Blaine's waist and in that moment the boy knew that he shouldn't be nervous about his friends being uncomfortable in the same bed.

Especially not when Sam scooted a little closer behind him. Blaine felt the light touch pressure of Sam's bare back against his chest.

He was silly for thinking his friends would be awkward.  The blond and the oldest guy had always been cool about him being gay. Yet, sometimes Blaine still couldn't help with feeling a little unpleasant.

But then he remembered their drunk kissing encounters. A shiver went down his spine when the ghost of Sam's and Puck's lips brushed against his again. He still couldn't believe that had happened.

"Good night," Sam whispered in the dark, before licking his plump lips.

"Sweet dreams," Blaine replied, a silent smile on his face.

"Whatever," Puck grumbled.

A rough fifteen minutes later, Sam was sound asleep. Blaine could hear his soft, peaceful snoring. It was a cute sound and it soothed Blaine; it kept reminding him that he wasn't alone. On his other side, Puck was turning again and right before Blaine took off to dreamland, his voice pierced through the silence.

"Hobbit?"

The smallest one let out an annoyed sigh at the use of the nickname. Again. "Yes, Noah?"

"You asleep?" The question sounded.

Blaine crooked up an unseen eyebrow. "You're kidding, right?"

"Shut up, you know what I mean," Puck grumbled, moving a little closer to his friend. "Can we talk? Like, privately?"

"Well…" the curly haired boy snorted. "…That's kind of impossible at the moment," he referred to their friend behind him.

"Shut up and stop being so witty."

"You use that phrase a lot, don't you?"

"Oh, ha-ha," Puck scowled, "just because I use one smart sounding word in a sentence you feel the need to go all sarcastic on me?"

Blaine frowned and shook his head ever so slightly. "I was talking about the shutting up thing," he explained, giving a tug at the man's mohawk. "Anyway, what's up?"

Puck moved his head a little more closely. Blaine felt his warm breath on his forehead when he spoke. "I think I heard Sam throwing up today."

His friend gave him a not understanding look, which he then figured Puck couldn't see in the darkness of his room. "What do you mean?"

Now it was Puck's turn to give him the same facial expression. "I mean like puking. Vomiting. Gagging. Heaving. Spew-"

"Yeah, okay, I think I got it," Blaine interrupted him. "But why do you want to talk about that?"

Puck shrugged a little. Blaine's coolness about the situation made him question again if he was making something big out of nothing. He hesitated for a moment before deciding to speak up. At least he was sure that Blaine wouldn't make a fool out of him if his worrying had no meaning. That was what Puck admired in the boy; he would always be patient with him and never laugh when he was being serious. Even if his seriousness resulted in something stupid, Blaine would always understand where he was coming from and support him.

"I don't know. It's just…" the hazel-eyed guy looked for words, not used to talking about these sorts of things, "he's been acting so…weird, lately."

"Elaborate…" Blaine said when a short silence fell between them.

"Well, you know, I haven't seen him eat a lot since I'm back. Then again, I'm not that often around him as, for example, you are," Puck whispered, "and I swear that he has lost weight. I'm sure of it. And then today we ordered pizza and he said he wasn't hungry, which is weird, because he always wants pizza."

Blaine nodded, giving Puck the space to continue.

"But then, he did eat, like, half of it...although very slowly. And afterwards he went to the toilet, which isn't weird, duh. But I thought I heard something weird, so I went to the bathroom door and eavesdropped. And then I was pretty sure I heard him…"

"…Throwing up," Blaine finished his sentence. He let his friend's words sink in, wondering what the meaning of all his observations could have been. If there was any meaning at all, because it could've just been coincidence. "Noah, I'm not saying that I don't take what you're saying serious, but it could be that Sam just felt sick."

"But then why would he lie about it?" Puck asked, unsure.

Blaine didn't have an answer to that. Instead, he tried to recall his last couple of weeks with Sam. That proved hard though, because he found his mind failing him multiple times. Some of that had been the result of his alcohol consummation on that same evening, but some of it had also been due by lack of attention. He had been so caught up with the breakup of his relationship and with making sure not to be alone that he had forgotten to keep an eye on one of his closest friends. Sure, he had noticed that Sam hadn't been eating during lunch, but was that something to get concerned about? Sam seemed to be doing fine and to him the guy still looked…ripped. He definitely didn't look scarily skinny, which you would expect from someone who wouldn't be eating. No, Blaine felt like he needed some more facts.

"Blaine?" Puck suddenly pulled him out his thoughts.

Oops, he had been silent for too long. "Sorry, I was thinking about it," he apologized. "I get your point, Noah, but to be perfectly honest with you, I haven't really noticed any changes. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that you're making more out of things, but if you'd ask me I'd say that Sam's doing fine."

Puck clenched his jaw and nodded. "Alright. Never mind, then, it's probably just me." He made an attempt into turning his back on Blaine and trying to go to sleep, but the other boy held him by the arm that was still around his waist.

"Listen, I promise I'll keep an eye on him. We'll just see how things go and talk about it again, alright?" he offered, before he squeezed Puck's arm for a moment.

The mohawked man let out a deep breath. "Sure."

Blaine smiled gently and loosened his grip. "Okay. Anything else?"

"Nope," Puck shrugged. He burrowed his head deeper into his pillow. "Thanks, Blaine."

"Anytime. You know that."

Puck hummed in confirmation and started brushing his thumb against the sheets, pretending that he was doing it across his friend's stomach. Blaine's smile turned a little brighter for a second before his heart dropped for a second. He felt Sam behind him turn to his other side, but didn't notice that said boy was nervously biting his bottom lip as his eyes were open.

The following morning, sounds that could mostly be described as the groans of hung over teenagers, echoed through the Anderson Kingdom. Puck was the only one who was used to the morning regrets, so he had gone downstairs to make coffee and had even found some aspirin. After taking two of them himself and chugging it with water, he made his way upstairs again. He chuckled when he saw his friends lying knocked out on Blaine's bed. The owner of that bed was massaging the temples of his head with two fingers on each side, while the blond was trying to get his salivary glands up and running again. His guppy mouth felt like a desert and smelled like a rat had died in it.

"You guys look so cute when you're fucked," Puck said teasingly as he entered the musty bedroom.

Sam grumbled something inaudible in response while Blaine considered shaking his head for a moment, but then decided that it would probably be better if he didn't. So when no real response came out of the two of them, Puck laughed again and sat down on the bed.

"Here, the holy fluid that will wake you guys up," he announced as he each handed of them a mug with steaming hot coffee. "And a little miracle," he showed them the white pills.

"How many cabinets did you have to go through to find those?" Blaine mumbled, putting one of them inside his mouth.

Puck shrugged it off. "Let's just say that I know everything about all your parents' illnesses now." He snorted, "or is it you who often suffers from diarrhea?"

The curly haired boy rolled his eyes. "You're disturbed."

Then a familiar rumble sounded through the room and two pairs of eyes moved over to Sam's upper body.

"Whoa? I'm hungry," he muttered in defense, "anyone else want food?"

Puck and Blaine exchanged a quick look before one of them answered. "I don't. My stomach probably wouldn't be able to muster it."

"Do you have eggs?" Puck asked after the thoughtful expression on his face had disappeared.

"What? You didn't come across those when you were searching my house for drugs?" Blaine responded sarcastically.

"Man, you're a fucking bitch when you're hung over," Puck snorted, "and I gotta say, it's not a pretty sight."

That comment managed to reveal a tiny smile appearing around the boy's lips. Afterwards, the room fell silent as they sipped from their coffees, each occupied by their own thoughts. Thoughts that ironically turned out to be the same. They were all dragged back to Blaine and Puck's conversation. Blaine was secretly wishing that Sam was, indeed, doing okay. The curly haired boy would have a hard time forgiving himself if the opposite turned out to be true. Especially since it would mean that he had been too selfish. Sam had been there and supported him during all those times of his own heartache and he would feel guilty if that would have been a one way street. Because he didn't want it to be.

Sam was also trying to repeat the conversation he had overheard about him. He knew he had been a fool, taking Puck as stupid as for his appearance. He knew that the guy was much smarter than he looked like, but in his defense, his act of desperation was supposed to be a one-time thing. However, as things were looking now, he figured that he had no choice but to overstep his boundaries once again. He couldn't afford his friends finding out about his unhealthy eating habits. He didn't want to deal with that.

Which meant that he did know that he was doing something unhealthy. Yet it wasn't enough for the blond to stop. The amount of calories he would consume per day were the only thing that he could control in his life. He was sure that he would go completely insane if he would let go of his last grip. It felt like he was dangling on the edge of a cliff and the only thing he could hold onto was his eating behavior. So Sam decided that he would do a major binge eat that day to let Blaine continue to think that there was nothing wrong with him and to show to Puck that his concerns were meaningless. The latter was most likely to be the tougher one, because Noah's stubborn mind had already convinced himself that his speculations were true. Despite the fact that Blaine hadn't confirmed his concerns, he was already a step ahead. He had started wondering as to how it had turned out that Sam had become so obsessive about eating. It didn't sound like his friend at all. Sure, Sam would always make sure that his body was in good shape, which had always been the case as far as Puck was concerned. Even he had sneakily eyed the perfect abs when they would be exposed while changing in the locker rooms. His last peak had been at least four and a half months ago, but even with his shirt on, Puck could still tell that nothing had changed. And after look at Sam last night, he was convinced the guy still had killer abs.

"Seriously though, are we gonna eat or what?" Sam broke through the quiet atmosphere. "I'm literally starving over here."

"Yes. I have decided," Puck answered, "scrambled it is."

Both boys left the bedroom to go to the kitchen, leaving Blaine wondering if that really had been the thing that Noah had been trying to decide for all those minutes. His friends' footsteps in the upstairs hallway died as they had gone downstairs. It instantly confronted Blaine with the well-known coldness that always seemed to be coating the walls of his house. The roaming of the loneliness he felt, even with the knowledge that his best friends were somewhere in the house. Blaine's thoughts trailed off again and that was when he realized that he had been close to spilling his misery the night before. Noah had almost figured him out and Blaine actually felt a little relieved that he hadn't, because it would have embarrassed him to the fullest. The fact that he had to confess that he had been missing them didn't bother him as much, because it didn't sound as sad and pathetic as admitting that his feelings were much worse than that. It would make him sound like a helpless, dramatic little "hobbit" who had slipped into depression, due to his breakup. A break up he had caused himself and still couldn't get over it. In comparison to Noah, who had been searching for his father and to Sam – if he wasn't doing okay – it was nothing. How could he possibly start bothering his friends even more than he was already doing without making it seem immature? No, Blaine was old enough to take care of himself. Besides, his broken heart should be close to healing now, right? It had been so long since it got scattered. He probably just had to push through a little bit more and then he would only be going upwards.

Little did the youngest boy know, that he hadn't hit rock bottom yet. And that moment was getting closer and closer.

"Fuck, I love fatty food when I'm hung over."

Sam and Puck had finished preparing their breakfast and were now coming in with their plates, containing scrambled eggs, toast and lots of mayonnaise. Blaine could feel his stomach churning when the smell infiltrated his nose and he wrapped his hand over his mouth.

"Guys, over there. On the floor. Seriously." The muffled instructions sounded as he pointed to the other side of the bedroom. There was no way they were going to sit next to him.

Sam smiled comfortably at him, making sure to empty his plate as fast as he could. He made it seem like he was taking Blaine's upset stomach into consideration while he was actually doing it for himself. All that while Puck was doing the complete opposite, grinning at Blaine with his mouth full. He wasn't going to leave this opportunity. Hell, it was Blaine's first ever real experience with hangovers. His actions resulted in Blaine sticking out his tongue towards him, who still hadn't moved an inch from his place on the bed.

"So what do you guys want to do the rest of the day?" he asked when his friends had finished their breakfast.

Puck shrugged indifferently, it wasn't as if he had any plans whatsoever anyway.

"I've to get home and study," Sam sighed.

"Oh, crap, I've to drop you off because we took my truck," Puck then remembered.

Blaine nodded silently, restraining himself from showing his disappointment. His friends had to leave at some point anyway, since they had lives of their own. He couldn't expect them to hang around night and day.

"I'll come back when I've dropped Sam off," his mohawked friend continued. It earned him an approving and proud look from the blond and an ever so slightly relieved one from Blaine.

An hour later Sam was ready to leave. He pulled Blaine in for a hug and thanked him for the night, mentioning their kiss jokingly. His friend chuckled as his cheek was pressed against the blond's chest for a moment. He noticed the warmth that was radiating from it. And Sam realized how nice it felt to have the smaller one so close to him.

"Alright, see you tomorrow at school, Blainers," he greeted him, stepping out of the front door.

"See you in a bit," Puck said, patting his friend's back for a second as he passed him.

The ride home had been silent for Sam as his mind was already at the bathroom. His stomach felt like it was going to explode and it had been causing waves of disgust washing over him every somewhat minutes. In the back of his mind there was already a light sense of guilt, but the urge and thought of staying in control of his life was too strong. Especially when he started to remember all the things he still had to do for school. Stress had definitely become a major part of his life. And how could it not? His parents were in debt, while he was trying to focus on graduating and in the meantime his siblings were running around the house like crazy. The accumulation of all those things was now taking his toll. Sam had gotten into a vicious circle, because not eating enough also brought other things that the teenager wasn't aware of. Yet.

"Thanks, Puck. Catch ya later!" Sam said as he attempted to leave the car.

"Wait," Puck stopped him, making Sam instantly nervous, because he thought to know what his friend was about to say. "I really do think Blaine is lonely."

A relieved sigh erupted from his best friend's mouth, glad that it wasn't anything about him. "I know," Sam nodded, "but you don't think it's still because of the breakup, right? I mean, it's been quite a while."

Puck shrugged unknowingly. "I'm not that good with causes. Just make sure to spend some more time with him at school."

Another confirming nod showed, even though Sam felt like he was already spending most of his time with Blaine.

"Alright, thanks," Puck said and Sam turned around to get out of his truck.

"Oh, and Sam?" The blond turned back again. Puck examined him for a moment from head to toe, but then seemed to change his mind. "Take care."

Puck drove back to where he came from, trying to focus on Sunday's traffic. After he had parked his truck on the driveway, Blaine opened the door for him, once again alerted by the familiar, roaring engine.

"So, apparently, I was wrong," Puck spoke when he had entered the house.

It took Blaine a moment before he realized what his friend was talking about, blinking bluntly.

Puck noticed this and with his hands in the air he reminded Blaine. "About Sam?"

"Oh, yeah, of course!" his friend responded, restraining himself from facepalming. "I guess so...I'm sorry, Noah, but it didn't seem like something's wrong with him. I promise to keep an eye on him anyway, but...don't expect too much from it, okay?"

The mohawked man nodded while he sighed. "Thanks, Blaine, at least you took me seriously."

The boy smiled gently at him. "Of course."

"Now let's talk about you."

Blaine snorted nervously. "About me?" he repeated. "Why do you want to talk about me?"

"Because I think that you're hiding something," Noah answered, trying to catch his friend's gaze, who smartly avoided that.

"Noah, what could I possibly be hiding? You know I'm an open book with feelings, even Samuel once said so." He pointed his finger at himself. "Easy to read."

The Puckerman narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Maybe that's true," he responded, "maybe 'hiding' isn't the right word...more like...guarding. As if you're keeping yourself from showing everything."

Blaine upped both of his eyebrows at his friend, surprised that he had actually figured him out. But the teenager wasn't going to prove Noah right. He still wasn't up for all the embarrassment if the conversation would turn out into some heart to heart where Blaine would spill everything. He refused to be that guy. He refused to be helpless. And mostly, he didn't want to bother Puck.

"Well, I appreciate the wise words, Noah," he therefore started, "but I'm afraid that I must tell you wrong." He mustered a sincere looking smile onto his face. "I'm doing fine. Yes, I like hanging out with you guys and I miss you every once in a while, but that's just because I have fun with you two. No biggy."

Puck held his friend's gaze for a moment, trying to figure out how he should respond to that. Unfortunately, he was out of great comebacks, so he let it go, falling back onto the sofa. "Alright, cool, if you say so." He shrugged it off.


	6. Guarding

_Chapter five_

Sam wiped away the little tears that had formed in the corners of his emerald eyes. After sipping some water into his mouth from the sink he rinsed and spat, trying to get rid of the taste of vomit that was still lingering. He flashed his teeth, checking if they still looked presentable. A deep breath later he made his way back to the classroom he was supposed to be in.

"Everything okay, Sam?" Mr. Schuester asked when he stepped through the door.

"Yeah, fine, thank you," he answered, showing a sincere smile. The blond would've panicked at the question if he hadn't told him that he had to take an 'important' phone call.

The teenager wasn't exactly a fan of lying, especially not to his Glee Club teacher, but he couldn't go to the bathroom and throw his guts out during lunchtime. The hallways were too busy at that time, so he couldn't make sure that no one would hear him. On top of that, they usually weren't allowed to go the bathroom during class. Hence Sam's somewhat unusual excuse. He sat back down next to Blaine, who he hadn't let out of a five foot radius ever since he had promised Puck to make sure to spend as much time with him as possible. It had been proven a not too hard job, because the boy would stick to him like glue anyway.

Sam obviously didn't know that his friend in question had his own agenda for that. Blaine was also keeping a close eye, but on Sam. He had started noticing the amount of 'important phone calls' Sam had been getting over the past two weeks. However, Christmas break was around the corner, so he would most likely be forced to stop his observations for a while. The timing was impeccable, because Blaine could use the distraction over those days off. Days that he doubted he would spend with his family, even though that was the spirit of the Holiday.

"What was that about?" he asked his friend in a whisper, while Mr. Schue was introducing their new Musical Project for the school year.

"Nothing interesting," Sam answered, "just my mom telling me that I've to pick up my brother and sister from school."

Blaine mouthed an understanding "oh" while he nodded, his eyes trailing off to the teacher in front of him. It had occurred to him that his friend was - as Puck had said - acting a little odd, but how could Blaine reason with his excuse? It could've been true for all he knew. Besides, Sam had accepted the sandwich Blaine had offered him during lunch, so the curly haired boy knew for a hundred percent sure that his friend was eating. All that made him struggle with the pieces presented to him, trying to fit them together as well as he could.

"How are your grades doing, by the way?" he suddenly asked, earning a muffled moan from Sam.

"I don't even wanna know, to be honest, but I'm doing everything I can to improve them." The answer sounded a little helpless.

"Well, I could always help you out more often by tutoring," Blaine offered, secretly praying for a solution for himself for the upcoming winter break. "I mean, it's working for you, right? Your last grade for English was pretty okay."

Sam shrugged a little. "Yeah...I guess..."

"Dude, what's wrong? You know I don't mind helping you out," Blaine pushed.

"Yeah, why don't you?"Sam suddenly fired back, meeting his friend's gaze. He had seen an opening into Blaine maybe spilling about the loneliness him and Puck had established he was going through.

Blaine, taken off guard, stared at him for a moment as he thought of something to say. "Because you're my best friend," he then answered cleverly. "I don't mind helping you out...doesn't matter with what." It was now his turn to glare knowingly at Sam, who quickly avoided his penetrating look. "Anyway…we'll have a look at it tonight."

The blond sucked in his bottom lip for a moment as he nodded. He started chewing on it before he averted his attention back to Will in the front of the room, wondering if Blaine knew more than he should know.

That night Puck was to be found in his room again, spending some quality time with his best friend. He was peeling off the black label in boredom, taking a chug every once in a while. The first times he had drunk the whiskey his face would scrunch up in disgust. His throat would burn from the strong alcohol that was sliding down it. Now, it didn't bother him anymore and he even noticed that he was able to handle more and more of it. Still, emptying one bottle of Jack Daniels was enough to numb his mind. Or, as he would refer to it, shitfaced, hammered and wasted all at once.

A few more sips and he would be there. Tomorrow he would wake up with a slight headache, a dry mouth and black spots in his memory. Gaps that he didn't want to fill since they always included beating some guy up or embarrassing himself while trying to get into a girls' pants. Otherwise known as an aggressive or sexual rage. An outburst that would boil up inside of him and explode within seconds without him even realizing it. They usually passed in a blur which Puck wouldn't remember the day after. But sometimes images would come back to him, making his heart skip a beat at the wrong he might have done. Most of the time he would close his eyes and shake his head, quickly thinking of something daily and usual to get rid of them. Maybe it wasn't right to avoid the truth that way, but to Puck it was the better option, instead of dealing with it.

He ripped off the label, fumbling with it in his hands until it turned into a ball. Taking his last big gulp, he threw it into no particular direction in his bedroom. He moved the bottle from his lips and looked at it. A smirk formed onto his face before he threw the glass bottle to the end of his bed, standing up before he started stumbling down the stairs.

"Alright, so English is getting better, but you're still failing Spanish and Math."

"I guess…" Sam grumbled in the annoyance of having it all summed up for him.

"It's fine, we'll work on them, then," Blaine responded in an optimistic way.

"Or we could accept that I'm loser?" Sam offered sarcastically, not looking forward to all the work he needed to do.

Blaine sighed after he took a sip from his tea. "You're not a loser, Samuel. You're just not good at those courses. And your dyslexia isn't helping either," he said in an attempt to cheer his friend up, even though it didn't sound like one.

"Thanks, Blaine, that definitely helps," Sam continued in his sarcasm as he put his mug back down on the dining table.

The smaller one pursed his lips into a thin line as Sam's rumbling stomach sounded through the room.

"Are you hungry?" Blaine asked, his eyebrows upped.

"Nah, it's just making noises. Ignore it," Sam casually shrugged it off, mentally cursing his own body.

"Alright, if you say so," his friend replied before going back to the homework in front of them, "let's go back to Spanish. Try to do some assignments with the new grammar we learned today and we'll go through them together when you've finished."

Sam nodded and picked up his pen as he started reading through the books.

"In the meantime, I'll make us some more tea," Blaine said as he got up, walking towards the kitchen. The sigh he let out when he was there was one of empathy, feeling bad for his friend who was having such a hard time with his school work. However, Blaine was doing everything he could and – looking at Sam's grades for English – he knew it was helping. That thought brought him some satisfaction, which made him able to let go of his pity, clearing his mind to think about other things. About Glee Club doing Grease, for example, a musical that had always been in Blaine's "Top 10 Best Musicals of all Time". But despite that, he wasn't sure if he wanted to auditioning for the lead role. How could he play the lead in Grease, a romance musical, when he had ruined his own romantic life?

"Are you doing okay?" he asked when he got back to the dining room, sitting down on his chair next to Sam.

"I think so…" his friend sighed, "but we'll find out when you check it."

Blaine smiled gently. "And if it turns out that you didn't, we'll work on it until you…" His response died as he looked up, focusing on the familiar sound that was reaching his ears. A door slammed and a second later the doorbell rang multiple times. Sam looked at him with a blunt look.

"Are you expecting anyone?" he asked, a surprised tone in the back of his voice.

"No…" Blaine shook his head as he got up, "but I still know who it is."

He walked towards the hallway as the ringing turned to loud bouncing on the front door, rolling his eyes before he opened it.

"My goodness, Noah, can you tone it down a bit?" he said in annoyance, his eyes meeting the hazel of his friend's. Which were looking kind of…odd…?

"Oh, shut up, Hobbit, don't be such a sissy," Puck grumbled in response before he made his way inside Blaine's house, bumping in to the boy ever so slightly as he did so.

"Puck?" Sam sounded surprise when he recognized his friends' voice.

"Jesus fuck, are you gonna complain too? I just wanted to get in," the mohawked man muttered while he entered the living room, followed by the other two in the house. "Got anything to drink? I'm thirsty as hell."

When no response came, he walked over to Blaine's dad's liquor cabinet, eagerly searching through the bottles. The curly haired boy shook his head for a moment, clearing it from the surprise that one of his best friends had suddenly showed up…drunk.

"Noah, no offense, but…why are you are here?" he asked.

"What? A guy can't visit his friends anymore?" Puck answered through the rankling noises of bottles getting pushed into each other.

"Well it kinda takes you off guard when they do while they're loaded," Sam jumped in, a little annoyed with how rude his friend was being.

Puck turned around, a smirk spreading on his face with a bottle of expensive Bourbon in his hand. "Oh, shut up, Evans. Don't act like you're a saint. I just had a tiny little bit of..."

"…Jack Daniels?" Blaine finished his sentence. "Yeah, you're kind of the worst when you drink that stuff."

The oldest teenager shrugged indifferently, not caring about his friends' opinions.

"Wait…did you drive here…?" Sam suddenly realized out loud before his eyes widened as he shot Puck a judgmental look.

Blaine also shocked at that and he walked up to his friend. "Noah…"

"What? I got here safely, didn't I?" Puck defended himself as he fumbled with the lid on the bottle, "Fuck off, you guys. I didn't come for a lecture about responsibility. I'm fine."

"Then what did you come for?" Blaine asked, looking up into Noah's eyes.

He could see that Puck was clenching his jaw and Sam noticed how his grip tightened around the neck of the bottle. He glared back at Blaine coldly. A muscle in the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Screw you, dude, I just came for some fu-"

"What happened, Noah?" Blaine pushed, "what did you do?"

Sam, who had joined Blaine by his side, showed an expectant look at Puck.

The mohawked man swallowed, debated, but then took a sip from the whiskey in his hand. "Nothing. Now fuck off."

"You're in my house, so that would be a little weird, don't you think?" Blaine responded, making sure that he remained calm. Even though he knew that his dad would probably get mad when he would notice that someone but him had been touching his finest liquor. Sure, he had retrieved a bottle out of it himself when he. Sam and Puck were playing Never Ever the other day, but Puck had now grabbed the real good stuff.

"You know, you look kinda hot when you interrogate me," Puck suddenly complimented, catching Blaine off guard.

"What?" It was the only response he could think of.

"You too, Sammy," Puck continued, "but then again, you always turn me on with that body of yours."

The blond gave him a weird look. "Dude…you seriously need stop drinking now."

Puck killed the last bit of distance that had been between his friends, his face inches from their ears. "Why? Am I making you guys think of something that would be…inappropriate?"

Blaine swallowed awkwardly. He could feel Noah's breath against his shell and – even though it smelled like alcohol – he couldn't help but finding himself a little…warmer.

"Come on, try me. I know you want to," Puck hissed.

Sam licked his dry lips before he laid a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Why are you here, Puck?" he repeated Blaine's words, "what happened?" It was obvious that the oldest one wasn't telling them something. Puck had always been 'action-reaction', so he knew that there was something he wasn't telling him and Blaine. He wouldn't just come to see them and make a scene out of boredom. Something was up.

"Whatever," Puck then groaned, refusing to explain his behavior. "You guys are no fun. Fuck this shit, I'm out," he said as he pushed through them and walked back to the door he came in from.

"Noah!" Blaine called when he had turned around. He jogged after him since Puck's quickened pace had already moved him to the front yard. "Noah, you are not taking your truck!"

"Fuck. You. Hobbit!" Puck shouted back as he walked off the property.

"Should we go after him?" Sam asked when he had caught up with Blaine.

"No," he responded firmly, "it's not like he will listen anyway. He's way too drunk. Let's just stay here, I mean, he has to come back for his truck anyway."

Sam dug his teeth into his bottom lip, nodding softly.

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't forget to review! I appreciate it a lot!


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